Knife, Blood, and Bone
by Chel aka Elf Goldfish Cracker
Summary: He was a dangerous murderer. But now he is dead. But the lust to kill was not satisfied. And nobody is safe anymore... R/R
1. Suicide

Knife, Blood, and Bone

By Psycho Elf Goldfish Cracker

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Lord of the Rings, which means that I'm not JRR Tolkien, which means I'm not dead, because if I did own LotR, then that would mean I was JRR Tolkien and if I were JRR Tolkien I would be dead, but since I'm here writing this fanfic that means I'm not dead which means I'm not JRR Tolkien which means I don't own LotR. Got it? Good, because I don't either. 

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The knife. It brings back so many memories, all painful. How I loathe that silver bladed knife with the black handle. Because of it, because of this knife, I can no longer live in peace. 

I bring the blade to my throat, pausing once to think if this is really right. But it is, oh it is. No one can fully understand. 

I slash the knife across my own throat. Crimson blood spatters the floor, my hands, and the knife. Never again will I have to look upon this knife, the source of all my pain, all my suffering, my inner turmoil. Because of this knife, I had to die. 

Pain rips through my body, but I ignore it and slash my wrists too. To make death come quicker. It is more than I deserve. 

I fall to the ground, vision blurry, pain overcoming me… I throw the knife as far away as I can. Not far enough. The only thing I can do is turn my head. I will never have to see it again. 

How was I to know that both the knife and the memory of what I did were to haunt me—even in death?

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It still haunts me. The knife is in every memory I hold, every dream. This must truly be what Hell is like. 

And the memory of what I did. To my friends, family, and enemies. I am overcome with guilt and something else—the lust to kill. Now more than ever I regret my suicidal actions. Now more than ever I regret that I cannot hole the knife again, feel the smoothness of its hilt, the sharpness of its blade. 

Now more than ever I regret that I cannot kill again.

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Please review. Positive reviews boost my self-esteem, and flames are used to cook my dinner. 

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~Psycho Elf Goldfish Cracker, June 8th, 2002


	2. The Knife

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Knife, Blood, and Bone

By Psycho Elf Goldfish Cracker

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Disclaimer: I don't own LotR. I do however own this story. So you can't steal it, because if you do, I sue. 

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It began with the knife. 

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"Can I help you?" the store clerk asked. 

"I'm looking for a knife…Something strong and sharp that will aid me in battle," I replied. 

"I have just the thing! Wait one moment while I get it." The clerk hurried away to a back room. 

I was in a battle gear shop, looking for a knife that I could use in backup if I ran out of arrows or was captured by Orcs. Hopefully the knife the clerk was getting was small enough to not be seen easily. 

"Here we go!" I was startled back to earth by the clerk's voice. He had five knives, all of different sizes, all sharp. I picked up the first, a medium-sized knife with an ivory handle. It felt awkward; too large. 

I tried out the next three, all of which didn't feel perfect, before I got to the last one. 

It was smallish, with a silver blade about the size of my palm, but sharp. The handle was black, plain black with no markings. It fit perfectly in my hand. 

"I'll take this one," I said to the clerk, a lunatic grin spreading across my face. "It's perfect…" 

I saw the clerk look nervously at the knife in my hand and the grin on my face before he took my money. The knife was expensive, but it was worth it. I knew it would be worth it…

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Aargh…sorry it's so short, but I haven't been in a mood to write fanfics lately. I'd rather work on my novels…but I'm currently out of ideas…so… 

Please review. Good reviews make me happy; flames are used to light my brother's hair on fire. 

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~Psycho Elf Goldfish Cracker, July 17, 2002


	3. First Kill

Knife, Blood, and Bone

By Psycho Elf Goldfish Cracker

Author's note: something I forgot to mention…Isildur destroyed the Ring, so the war never happened. So everything is the same except for that….which means no Gollum either….darn, I was looking forward to killing Gollum….

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I hang, suspended in the black oblivion of Death. My hands itch to hold the black-handled knife again, to kill once more. I feel weak with want of blood. I need to see warm crimson blood stain my victim's body once again. I need to feel my victim's terror as a cruelly slash their throat. I need to _kill_. 

But I can't. I need to satisfy my blood lust with memories. Memories of past murders. My first kill floats to the surface of my mind. I close my eyes and relieve the gory details, my want to kill gone for the moment. 

But it will be back…stronger than ever. And then all Hell will break loose. 

Flashback; third person

Bilbo Baggins sat on a bench in one of the numerous gardens of Rivendell. It was night, and he was stargazing.

Suddenly, Bilbo heard something in the bushes. He jumped to his feet, knowing that nothing would hurt him while he was inside Rivendell, but he was worried all the same.

And he had a right to be. 

Someone grabbed Bilbo, covering his mouth with their hand. Bilbo struggled, but could not get free. His attacker pulled Bilbo into the bushes, and grasped the Hobbit's throat, choking him.

"You're my first, you won't be my last… Your body will be a message to Lord Elrond to beware," a voice said. That voice was familiar…

Just then the moon came out from behind a cloud, full and bright. Bilbo saw his attacker's identity and gasped in surprise. 

"You!"

"Me," Bilbo's attacker said grimly. "I will have the pleasure of killing you, right now!"

A knife flashed; a silver-bladed knife with a handle dark as night. Bilbo's attacker got up and walked away, leaving Bilbo lying there, his throat torn open. A message to Elrond that he had better beware. 

End flashback; first person

My first kill, and definitely not my last. I watch myself get up and leave, as if I am detached from my earthly body. But of course I am… 

I long for the knife, to have it back in my hand, to be able to kill again. I have always had the element of surprise on my side, no-one has ever heard me creep up on them; no-one ever suspects me. 

The blood lust comes back, stronger than ever, and I finally face the truth—I have to go back; I have to kill again. 

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Elf: Ooh, that turned out better than I planned…. *starts thinking of who the murderer is* No folks, even I don't know Mr. Murderer's real identity…. But—Oh! *just got an idea* 

Alternate personality: I'm not liking this one bit. 

Elf: Hehe…. *goes off to write the next chapter* You guys'll like this! I promise! 

~Psycho Elf Goldfish Cracker, July 17, 2002


End file.
